


The Power of Goodbye

by Nelll



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 13:18:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15842097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelll/pseuds/Nelll
Summary: Cristiano Ronaldo is leaving Madrid for Italy.





	The Power of Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> The Power of Goodbye is a song by Madonna.

They didn’t get to spend many nights together. Between training, games, business and family matters, they could hardly spare one night a month. But tonight had to be special―in just a few days Cristiano would have to climb on board a plane to Italy.

The moon was huge in the empty black aperture of the window. The window opened to an overgrown park at the outskirts of Madrid. A friend of a friend of Cristiano’s driver rented the small apartment for a substantial sum against the promise of absolute discretion. Luka liked the sense of seclusion the apartment gave him. Seclusion meant safety. Seclusion also meant privacy, a commodity hard to come by in his and Cristiano’s like of work. 

They lay in the unmade bed, cuddled together in a tangle of limbs, naked in the hot night air. Luka’s hand was slowly traveling along the line of Cristiano’s hip, down and up again, across the ridges and planes of his hard, muscular torso and upper still to his perfectly handsome face. Luka had never met him before the surgery, but sometimes he liked to imagine a younger, less perfect Cristiano who still had a lot to learn and not so much to regret. 

Cristiano caught his hand and rubbed his cheek against Luka’s fingers. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

Luka swallowed a lump in his throat. “Yeah.”

“I’m gonna come to you as often as I can. And promise me you’ll come to Italy too.”

“I will.”

Cristiano’s lips, hot and insistent, caressed Luka’s palm. Strange how such a trivial thing could be so intimate. 

“You could still go to Milan, you know that.”

That was a topic Luka had no wish to discuss. “I really couldn’t.”

Cristiano sighed into his palm. “I’m not doing it because―”

“I know it, Cris. Okay? I know.”

They fell silent. After a few minutes, Luka’s arm slid around Cristiano’s waist, and Cristiano buried his nose in Luka’s hair. 

“Don’t know how I’m going to do it without you.”

Luka smiled a little at that. “Aw, come on. You’re Cristiano Ronaldo. You can do anything.”

“Of course I’m Cristiano Ronaldo. I don’t mean that. Just… you know, hanging around in the locker room, joking with the guys. I’m gonna miss all of that. I think I’m even gonna miss Ramos.”

“He’s going to miss you too. But if he asks, I never told you anything.” Luka mimicked zipping his lips shut.

“He better look after you on the pitch now,” Cristiano muttered. 

“Oh, I think I’ll be alright. It’s you who gets carried away.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Do too.”

“Whatever you say, Lukita,” Cristiano said, pinching Luka’s aquiline nose between his fingers. Luka slapped his hand off. 

“Seriously, though. Take care of yourself, will you?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

The moon in the window was moving slowly, but inexorably, westwards. Luka didn’t need the digital clock on the bedside table to tell him the night was passing. 

He rested his head on Cristiano’s shoulder. “I’m going to miss you too, you know,” he said softly. “And I wish you the best of luck.” His words were small puffs of breath against the smooth skin.

“Appreciate that. I know you weren’t happy with me leaving Real.”

“I wasn’t. But that’s okay, I guess. We’ll survive.” 

“’Course you will. You’re fighters.”

They fell silent again. Cristiano’s heart was beating steadily under Luka’s ear. How many times he had heard that heart pounding madly with hazard, passion or anger. How many times those arms had grabbed him, picked him up from the pitch and held him against that chest.

Not anymore. 

Embarrassingly, Luka felt his eyes burning. He clenched his teeth hard, took a deep breath. It helped a little. 

Cristiano’s hand was playing with his hair. “It’s a shame you can’t come see me off at the airport.”

“Yeah. But come on, you’ll be so busy you won’t have any time for me.”

“I could make time,” Cristiano whispered suggestively. 

“No need. I have training anyway.”

Or he’d invent some if needed. Luka did _not_ want to fight tears again in front of the whole crowd of fans, managers and reporters there to wave goodbye to Madrid’s wayward star. 

“I’ll call you as soon as we touch down.”

“Okay.” Luka didn’t want to be brusque on purpose, he just couldn’t bear to talk about it right now. His chest was too tight with the words he’d said and even more so with the words he wasn’t saying. 

“You’re my little Lukita,” Cristiano murmured. He was already falling asleep. 

Luka sighed and let his eyelids fall too. It wasn’t Cristiano’s fault that he was feeling what he was feeling. Life was just like that. 

It’s always harder for the one who stays behind.


End file.
